The Last Song
by The Raggedy Doctor
Summary: River Song's first adventure with The Doctor. Set between Victory of the Daleks and Time of the Angels. Work in progress. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**I must have been on something when I concieved this idea. I've decided to write River's first meeting with the Doctor, in the hopes it's never covered on screen. Expect some ElevenxAmy and some ElevenxRiver over the chapters. Enjoy and don't judge me too harshly - this is my first fic that's not a oneshot.**

* * *

The disappearances started on May 1st 4999.

The air outside Henry Jones's house was sweet with the smell of marzipan as he made his way to vote. He smiled - it was one of his favourite smells. Ever since the second global warming disaster in the 41st century, the air was now filtered for toxins and purified, with a new fragrance added daily.

He and his wife, Magenta, kissed their children goodbye and assigned the home computer it's duties for today.

"GOOD MORNING MR AND MRS JONES." The onboard computer welcomed them to their vehicle as usual, in its usual toneless female voice. Twin cups of herbal tea hung from cup holders.

Silently, their car took off.

The hover-strips were busy as cars carried voters to the town centre.

"Busy, isn't it?" Magenta's attention was on her communications device; no doubt e-messaging her business partners.

"IT _IS _VOTING DAY."

"Thank you, computer." Henry pressed the mute button.

"She enjoys joining in the conversation, Henry." Magenta berated her husband. "Don't silence her."

"I wouldn't need to if you hadn't installed a sarcasm app." shot back Henry with a tiny smile.

Magenta grinned back. "It gives her a bit of edge."

The car parked itself a short walk from the voting booths. Henry and Magenta made their way to the waiting room. Magenta saw one of her colleagues and disappeared to chat.

"RESIDENT HENRY JONES. PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO VOTING BOOTH 45."

He followed the holo-directions to his cubicle and locked the door behind him. The computer took fingerprint scans and voice recognition software confirmed his identity.

On screen, the candidates flashed up. His hand hovered above his choice. The first alien Prime Minister – he was definitely a fan. He wondered what his wife would vote – after all, discussion of politics was forbidden.

"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU WILL NOT BE VOTING TODAY."

"But its voting day." protested Henry. "I got an e-message and everything."

"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU WILL NOT BE VOTING TODAY."

"Fine." He turned around. "Door, open."

It remained solidly shut.

"What the fnarg is going on?" he swore, hammering a fist against the door.

"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR THE LUPUS PROJECT."

"The what project?" Henry frowned. "I didn't get an e-message on that. I thought I was just here to vote."

"RESIDENT HENRY JONES, YOU WILL NOT BE VOTING TODAY."

The floor beneath him opened up and he screamed as he plunged into darkness.

*

The deep, metallic groan of an ancient machine as a small blue box materialised into existence. The door opened and a head peeked out.

"Ah, we've landed."

The voice seemed much older than the man whose mouth it came from; he was young and unscarred, with long, brown hair and deep green eyes. His lanky frame was garbed in an older man's clothes – a tweed jacket and a silk blue bow-tie.

The man crossed to the edge of the building they had landed on and looked down. "Excellent." A broad grin crossed his face.

A Scottish woman, barely out of her teens, followed him out of the curiously small box. She was pale and thin with vivid red hair which fell in curls onto her shoulders. She was dressed in her usual contemporary clothing – today wearing an oversized red t-shirt and black leggings. "Doctor, where are we?"

"Welcome to the 50th century London." The Doctor gestured to the sprawling city below.

They were at least ten storeys high, looking down at a futuristic metropolis of sorts; everything was in varying shades of silver with the occasional emerald-green patches Amy supposed were parks. Cars were flying – actually _flying_ – along semi-transparent roads that were stacked on top of each other. Looking upwards, the sea was sapphire and shining in the brightness of the sun.

"Has the sun always been that colour?" she asked, noticing it was electric yellow.

"The sun's much older now." said the Doctor. "Of course, the Human Race has years until it explodes. I've been there too. End of the World. Bit of trouble with a very vain woman." he added, with boyish glee.

"London's not a coastal city." Amy noted.

"50th century, Amy." said the Doctor, tapping her on the nose with a long, pointed finger. "Didn't you pay attention in geography? Erosion and all that?"

"Why didn't they try to stop it?" asked Amy.

"Are you kidding? In a hundred years, most the human race has took to the stars. Well, those who can afford it."

The pair paused for a moment in silent contemplation before the Doctor chirped up. "Anywho, shall we explore?"

"Allons-y!" In a Scottish accent, it sounded almost like a war cry.

The Doctor paused, considering Amy carefully. "What did you say?"

"Allons-y." repeated Amy, a rather devious smile on her face. "I was always very good at French."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head. "Never mind."

A buzz of the sonic screwdriver and the rooftop door swung open. As they stepped inside, lights burst into life; revealing they were in a large glass box with a holo-keypad.

Amy, wide-eyed, examined the surroundings. "Where are we?"

"PLEASE STATE YOUR IDENTITY." An unfamiliar, robotic voice boomed from above.

"Elevators of the future – bossy things." said the Doctor, tutting, as he pointed the screwdriver at the keypad. The light changed from blue to white and hummed.

"IDENTITY ACCEPTED. WHICH FLOOR DO YOU REQUIRE?"

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Ground floor please." Silently, the door shut. They were descending.

"So tell me about the 50th century." said Amy, wonder shining in those green ovals. "What's it like?"

"Let's see, you have a female Prime Minister – the twelfth, in fact – a Ms. Wanda Tundra. She's nice, represents the Green Party. Did the air smell funny to you?"

Amy nodded, confused. "It smelt like peppermint, but I couldn't work out–"

"–One of her policies. Giant converters, deep underground, sucking in the air, cleansing it and pumping it back out with a nice fragrance. 'Course, wouldn't be necessary if you watched your emissions. Global warming from your time gets sorted by the 28th century but there are solar flares, so you flee to the stars. Come back – fresh new Earth. And what do you do? Change your habits? Become greener? No – it's back to your old ways and by the 41st century, it's a disaster." He sighed. "So you do this to prevent an ice age." he paused. "Doesn't stop it, just delays it though. But sssh." He winked.

"GROUND FLOOR."

The doors opened to reveal a spacious room. Great deals of people were gathered in small groups, waiting for something. A general hubbub of conversation filled the air. High above their heads, in flashing neon letters, was "VOTING STATION ALPHA."

"'Voting station'?" read Amy, bemusedly. "Is there an election?"

"Must be." said the Doctor, who was frowning. "I thought we'd landed in 4998. There shouldn't be an election 'til next year."

Several feet away, a computer screen was embedded into the wall. The Doctor strode to it, Amy shadowing him. As they came into view, it lit up, displaying strange graphics and voice-wave patterns.

"GOOD DAY. HOW MAY I HELP?"

"Information, please."

"You seem to know what you're doing," noted Amy dryly. "Been here before?"

The Doctor pressed his fingers against the alien symbols on the computer. "It's your basic human-computer interface. Touch screen, voice activated – pretty standard. I'd estimate it has about six thousand times the capacity of a PC from your time. These public ones are prehistoric compared to the ones used by businesses and in homes."

He paused.

"Oh, I see."

"What do you see Doctor?"

Before he could answer, a disturbance distracted them.

"Get your hands off me!" cried a female.

"You are in violation of your rights, madam!" replied a deep male's voice.

The Doctor tore off with Amy sprinting after him. The crowd parted as they reached it, silence has now descended upon them.

"_You_ are violating _my_ rights." the woman insisted.

"Madam, you know that discussion of voting is forbidden, as is an attempt to access another resident's voting cubicle."

The Doctor and Amy made their way to the front of the crowd.

The woman was Amy's age, diminutive but more curvaceous than the Scottish girl, with excessively curly dirty-blonde hair and light caramel skin. She was dressed in a turquoise blouse and a flowing black skirt. Her hands were balled into fists. The man opposite was dressed in a long black robe, with receding white hair.

"There is something strange happening!" The woman was now shouting to the crowd. "People are disappearing."

"Madam, calm yourself or you will be retrained."

"Not until I know the truth!" shouted the woman. "And it has something to do with the Lupus Project!"

"RESIDENT RIVER SONG. YOU WILL LEAVE THE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY." The computer's voice was strict; anger seemed to be seeping into its usually toneless voice.

A beam of light came from the ceiling. It illuminated her and for a moment, she froze. As her particles dissolved in the light, the Doctor pointed his screwdriver in her direction, a strange look on his face. The bulb burned blue as the light vanished, leaving no trace of the woman.

"Doctor, what's going on?" asked Amy in a whisper. Everyone was staring at the spot where River had been. "What happened, where has she gone?"

"Teleported away." the Doctor replied, reading from a tiny screen on his screwdriver. "They sent her somewhere but clever me – I'm too clever sometimes – I've tracked her to her destination."

There it was again – the blazing in his eyes. He was keeping something from Amy.

"Keep up Amy, we're going to chat with an old friend. Allons-y!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Running, always bloody running!

"Doctor!" panted Amy as she struggled to keep up. "Doctor, slow down!"

The Doctor skipped to a halt and turned around, his long hair flopping over his eyes. He brushed it aside and looked disheartened. "What's the problem, Amy?"

"You're going too fast!" the redhead gasped as she struggled to catch her breath. "And I haven't run this much since gym class."

The Doctor shook his head, disbelievingly. "Humans, slow things you are – was it worth evolving to become bipedal if you can't keep up a decent pace?"

The Scottish girl frowned. "Oi!" The Doctor flinched at her disapproving tone. "Can't we just get a taxi Doctor?"

"I never thought of that." The Doctor looked upwards, pointing his sonic screwdriver at the skies and screamed "TAXI!"

Within a minute, a car landed in front of them. The driver was a plump, middle-aged man who looked pleasantly surprised as the Doctor rapped on his window.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

The Doctor produced that strangely blank white card out his pocket. "Sir, I need to commandeer this vehicle immediately."

The man's expression changed from disagreement to understanding. "Of course, officer." He stepped out of his car and allowed the Doctor and Amy to climb in.

The interior was luxurious; heated faux black-leather seats and several entertainment apps installed – including a gaming station. The Doctor, pointed his screwdriver at the dashboard, causing it burst into life. With a humming sound, it took off.

"GOOD DAY." the computer's voice was male – deep and velvety. "DESTINATION SET. SIT BACK AND ENJOY YOUR JOURNEY."

"It talks!" gasped Amy. "Like an actual person!"

"Personality app." said the Doctor. "This one's modelled on Hans Jorgon – famous aristocrat."

They joined the hover-strip. Cars shot by on either side. Their vehicle hummed as it sped up.

"You don't steer them anymore," the Doctor explained as Amy turned inquisitively to him. "A.I.'s smart enough to be wholly autopilot. Input destination and whoosh," he wiggled his fingers. "You're off. Infra-red sensors stop them crashing."

"How do they fly?" asked Amy.

The car veered left and down a side street. "There's gravity-resistors in the base. 'Course, using anti-gravity would be silly – you need some degree of gravity to stop you flying off into space. But enough of that," Another left. "We're here."

They paused outside some a tall, dull-chrome building with a multitude of windows. The car slowly began to descend to street-level.

"She lives here?" asked Amy. "In a flat?"

"Most people live in flats. Owning your own land for a house needs a lot of credits – the future equivalent of money. You have a global currency, see? No more pesky conversion rates."

They climbed out of the car. Unlike in the city centre, this street wasn't well kept. The road was cracked and plants were growing from the holes. In the shadows, several figures lurked.

"Doctor..." whispered Amy, tugging on his jacket and pointing. "Who are they?"

The Doctor looked gravely serious as he replied. Something sad troubled his green eyes. "If you ask anyone, they'll deny that anyone's homeless. But truth is; you can't eradicate it completely. Some people spend all their credit on the wrong things and lose their homes. Best policy according to the government, ignore it."

Amy's face fell. Something stirred in her soul; this wasn't right. "I thought you said the Prime Minister was nice?"

"There isn't a word for 'homeless' now – it's been taken out the dictionary. The Prime Minister was probably raised without ever being told they exist. It's happened for centuries."

Amy bit her lip, casting a second glance at the shadowy figures. "I thought the future would be better..."

"Just better at hiding things." the Doctor took her hand. "C'mon."

They entered the lobby; a small, empty room. There was no receptionist or desk, just elevators lining three walls.

"What now?" asked Amy.

Ignoring her, the Doctor strode into the centre of the room. A spotlight hit him. "We're here to see resident River Song."

One of the elevator doors along the left wall opened. It was similar to the one at the voting centre, except there was no keypad and it sounded a great deal older, groaning as it rose and squeaking as it stopped eleven floors up.

"Oh, faux-wood?" said the Doctor as he strode out of the elevator. "She's very young indeed."

"What do you mean?" Amy followed, looking up and down the wooden floor. The walls were whitewashed and plain.

"Limited supply of trees in the 50th century." said the Doctor. "Only the rich can afford real wood. Most just use substitutes. This particular faux-wood is branchberry. It's popular in student accommodations."

"River Song's a student?" repeated Amy. "But we just met her when she was in her 40s?"

The Doctor shook his head and merely mumbled something like 'time travel' as he marched up the corridor, looking from door to door.

"1112, 1114, 1116...ah, here we go! 1118!"

He hammered enthusiastically on the door.

Moments later, the door slid open to reveal a good-looking guy about Amy's age with thick dark hair and electric blue eyes. He was dressed casually in jogging bottoms and a baggy, stained t-shirt with the beginnings of stubble. He cocked an eyebrow.

"S'up?" he mumbled sleepily, running a hand through his bedhead hair.

"We're here to see River." said the Doctor. "She does live here, right?"

"Riv!" the guy bellowed back into the flat. "Someone's here to see you."

River joined him at the door, brushing the creases out her blouse. "Hello?"

"Hello River," beamed the Doctor.

"Do I know you?"

The Doctor paused, his eyes devouring the look of confusion on River Song's face before nodding and pulling out the psychic paper.

"I'm the Doctor. I'm from the Department of Injustices." he flashed the psychic paper at her and her friend.

"I've never heard of the Department of Injustice." said River's male friend.

"Small department." the Doctor waved a hand airily.

The young man was persistent. "I'm a Politics student, I know all the departments."

"Very small and brand new. Just me and my companion Amy at the moment." the Doctor flashed an annoyed glance at the young man. "Who are you anyway?"

"Adrian." replied the dark-haired guy. "Adrian Noble."

The Doctor smiled his widest grin so far. "Noble? Good surname. I like you already." he turned back to River. "I saw what happened to you at the voting station. Can we come in?"

For a moment, River paused. She was searching the Doctor's eyes for something. Then, she nodded.

The room they entered was fairly large; a 'L' shaped room with comfortable seating facing a plasma screen on the longer section and a small kitchenette in the smaller section. Three doors led off the room. The four of them made their way for the cushion-laden seats. The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at the kettle and it buzzed into life.

"What's that?" asked Adrian.

"Top secret government technology." said the Doctor, pressing a finger to his lips. "Sssh."

"Looks like a sonic device," River mused. "Able to remotely activate using sonic manipulation. Am I correct, Doctor?"

"You're good. Really good." He was suddenly serious. "Now, what caused the ruckus today?"

"I heard someone scream while I was voting." said River. "So I tried to override the function to let me in their cubicle with this," she pulled out a small metal pen. She pointed it at the television and it emitted a tiny hum; turning the television on. "Sonic pen. Top secret government technology." she mimicked the Doctor's lofty voice as she pressed a thin finger to her bright red lips. "Sssh." After a cheeky smile, she continued her story. "I just managed to get the doors open when I was caught. The cubicle was empty."

The kettle clicked – it was ready. Adrian went over to it.

"Someone's interfering with the voting." pointed out the Doctor.

"Doctor…" began Amy but he hushed her with a single, raised finger.

"And the Lupus Project, what's that?" the enigmatic man persisted.

"Top secret study by the Government." said Adrian as he poured the drinks. "Level five security. If you don't know about it, you're not supposed to."

"Doctor?" persisted Amy, a little more urgently but he ignored her.

"And yet, you two know about it?"

"It's just a rumour. If you ask, everyone just dismisses it as a defunct attempt to terraform the moon." said Adrian, bringing the tray over to the table laden with four cups of sweet smelling tea.

"But you know better?" the Doctor pressured the boy.

"Doctor, this is serious." insisted Amy.

"It can wait!" snapped the Doctor. "Adrian, you need to tell me everything you know."

"Doctor!" The redhead was stood in front of him, face contorted angrily. "There is someone outside and they're trying to get in."

The moment the last words left her lips, the door fell forward, cut by some sort of laser. Four men in electric-blue uniforms entered the room, brandishing silver firearms.

The Doctor and River pointed their sonic devices at the guns, the metallic shriek causing the guns to hiss and emit vast quantities of smoke. In one swift movement, the Doctor picked up a chair and hurled it at the large bay window opposite the seating area.

"Out the window!" yelled the Doctor.

"We're on the eleventh floor!" shrieked River.

The Doctor took her hand and gazed into her eyes. "Trust me."

The pair, still holding hands, leapt out the window and into oblivion.


End file.
